Poem by the Danish writer Henrik Nordbrandt

Sun-shadow

There is more sun than shadow in the shadow

and more shadow than sun in the sun.

The weather is tatty like a three-day-old

shirt over the back of a chair

and on my retina there is a spot

where the sun has produced a fly

in a winter-white room.

It will never go away

and just as distant as she is

she will never go away either

and the door she took with her when she left

so that house will never be shut

and the heart pumps in vain

because the heart’s doors are open like the house’s.

I cannot get up from the bed

and find no rest

because I cannot feel myself for flies.

‘I’ll find another woman all right,’

sounds tempting at first

but then sets my teeth on edge like sugar.